


Eve Says Lets Give it a Try

by CaffeineChic



Series: Domesticated Sexay [1]
Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-30
Updated: 2014-08-30
Packaged: 2018-02-15 09:57:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2224761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaffeineChic/pseuds/CaffeineChic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She'd moved in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eve Says Lets Give it a Try

**Author's Note:**

> I'm moving all my fic to one place - originally posted 2008

Eve Says Lets Give it a Try by CaffeineChic

* * *

 

She'd moved in. Unconsciously. (Or not). Somewhere along the line the decision had been made and she had ceased to live aboard Colonial One. The makeshift bed became a fading memory, her office became simply that - an office, a workplace that she left for in the morning and came home from at night.

She glanced around the space where she stood. Home. (His home. Her home. Their home.) She did not feel like an intruder, she was not a guest, despite having usurped his bed (her bed, not yet their bed. Yet ). Like something out of the corner of her eye that vanished when she had tried to stare it down, the reality had been sneaking up on her for days - days that had flowed into weeks. Not measured in days, hours or minutes – instead the time was measured in tiny acts; her possessions slowly entwining with his. Clothes that hung next to his, desks littered with joint work. Silences, meals, stories, hopes. All shared now. Her books cozying up to his (never lend, her books would always be here now, even if she... )

She snapped out of her reverie, distracted by this new *life* that she was now immersed in while approaching her death. She might drown if she hoped too hard, but perhaps she could float if she let it carry her along.

He came out of the head, freshly shaved, his smile enticed forth as he took in her dishevelled state,; her glasses were dangling from his fingers. _‘You left them on the sink. Again’._

She rolled her eyes at her own bad habits. _‘Frak, Quorum!’_ Suddenly she became aware that she was running late. _‘Frak!’_

Files into briefcase, shirt into skirt, feet into shoes. The President was put together at lightning speed as she dashed around, looking for anything she may have missed. With twice the speed (half the thought), she stepped toward him and snatched her glasses before darting in to kiss his mouth. _‘I'll see you later.’_ She was almost to the hatch before she registered just what she'd done. She spun on her heel and caught his eyes (amused, surprised, pleased) _‘I...’_ She glanced around again, her life mixed with his, her other shoes next to her (his, their future) bed _‘...will see you later, Bill.’_ She flashed him her biggest grin and sped out the door to work before he could comment.

She'd be home some enough anyway.


End file.
